|\lBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

^! Chap. ,.Fj.e>9. 

I Shelf -N^.H.^ 

\l UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




\ 



1783-1883 







REASONS 



FOR 



The Centennial 



AT 



WASHINGTON'S HEADQUARTERS, 

NEWBURGH, N. Y. 



Prepared by J. T. Headley, 



At the request of the Trustees. 




*^\ 



wm\f0^' 



NEWBURGH, N. Y.: 

JOURNAL BOOK AND JOB PRINTING ESTABLISHMENT, 

44 and 46 Second Street. 
1881. 



^•W,vvA^, 






WASH INGTON H EADOUARTERS 



BOARD OF TRUSTEES 



APPOINTED BY THE GOVERNOK OF THE STATE OF KEW YORK, 



Bv and with the advice and consent of the Senate. 



Hon JOEL T. HEADLEY, President. 
Hon. JAMES G. GRAHAM, Secretary. 
JOSEPH H. H. CHAPMAN, Treasurer. 
Major EDWARD C. BOYNTON, 
Hon. JAMES W. TAYLOR, 
EUGENE A. BREWSTER, 
Col CHARLES H, WEYGANT, 
DAVID CARSON, 
PETER WARD, 
CHARLES S. JENKINS. 





THE ROOM WITH SEVEN DOORS AND ONE WINDOW 



REASONS 

FOR 

THE CENTENNIAL 



AT 



WASHINGTON'S HEADQUARTERS, 

NEWBURGH, N. Y. 



The long list of centennial celebrations that have commemo- 
rated the stirring events and noble men of our revolutionary 
struggle have been not only a proper and well merited recognition 
of them but have also been of vast benefit to the nation. Amid 
the mad strife for power and spoils which have been pushing 
the nation toward destruction they have made the people pause, 
take a new view of their situation from the standpoint of the rev- 
olution, and stimulated a love of country that is far different from 
the love of political power. 

We propose to close the list extending through so many 
years by a grand centennial in Newburgh in 1883. As the first 
one celebrated a peaceful event, the declaration of mdepend- 
ence in Independence Hall, Philadelphia, so this last will cele- 
brate a peaceful event, the proclamation of peace to the army 
and its final disbandment. As the first celebrated the birthday 
of liberty in Philadelphia, so the last should celebrate the birth- 
day of the Republic at Newburgh. As out of gloom and un- 
certainty as to the future one was born, so out of the deepest 
darkness and almost despair the other sprang into being. 
The clangor of arms and thunder of hostile guns heralded 
neither. As the first was peaceful and yet more momentous 
than all the battles that followed, so the last was equally peaceful 



6 

and yet greater than all the victories that preceded it. Both 
were moral victories accompanied by none of the display which 
dazzles the senses and attracts the gaze of the crowd. 

Washington's Headquarters in Newburgh, the spot designated 
for the closing centennial of the revolution, is a quaint old stone 
building standing on a green bluft overlooking the gorge of the 
Highlands. Hither Washington led his ragged army from the 
victorious field of V^orktown and made it his home for more than 
a year and a half. Burgoyne's army having been crushed at the 
north and that of Cornwallis at the south, there was left but one 
large army on our shores, that of Clinton shut up in New York. 
While Rochambeau stood watch and ward over the south, Wash- 
ington guarded the north at Newburgh. 'I"he Headquarters took 
in the Hudson River for eight miles to West Point, and the mo- 
ment Clinton should break through the obstructions across the 
channel there, he would know it and his army be put ni motion. 

But as time passed on and it became pretty certain that the 
war was over, the attention of the army was naturally turned to 
the form of government to be adopted, and this question became 
^the topic of general discussion, and assumed greater importance 
as Congress became more corrupt and more and more indiffer- 
ent to the rights and comfort of the army. It was asked on 
every side, would it do for the army to disband and leave the 
destiny of the country in the hands of Such a Congress. The 
terrible state of feeling that existed in the army may be imag- 
ined from the following extract from a letter of Washington's to 
the Secretary of War. He says : 

" Under present circumstances, when I see such a number of 
men goaded by a thousand stings of retiection on the past, and of 
anticipation in the future, about to be turned on the world, soured 
by penury and by what they call the ingratitude of the public., in- 
volved in debts, without one farthing of money to carry them 
home, after spending the flower of their days and many of them 
their patrimony in establishing the freedom and independence of 
their country, and suffered everything that human nature is capa- 
ble of enduring this side of death. 1 repeat it, when 1 consider 
these irritating circumstances, without one thing to soothe their 
sufferings or dispel their gloomy prospects, I cannot avoid appre- 



hending a train of evils will follow of a very serious, disturbing 
nature, and I wish not to heighten the shades of the picture so far 
as the reality would justify in doing it. I could give anecdotes 
of patriotism and distress which have scarcely ever been paral- 
leled, never been surpassed in the history of mankind. But you 
may rely upon it the patience and long suffering of the army are 
almost exhausted." 

How fearfully perilous the state of things must have been to 
have forced such strong language from the calm and prudent 
Washington. He knew meetings were almost nightly held by 
officers high in rank respecting the form of government that 
should be adopted when peace was secured. At this day it may 
seem strange that such a question should come up, but it must 
be remembered that when the colonies took up arms it was at 
first for a redress of grievances alone. In a short time it changed 
into one for independence — for a government of our own without 
any fixed idea as to what character that government should be 
when freedom was secured. It was time enough to think of that 
when we obtained our independence. That overshadowed all 
other questions. There is no evidence that such a republic as 
ours was ever dreamed of at the outset. As far as we can ascer- 
tain the general feeling of the statesmen at that time, the opin- 
ion was that a government based with some modifications upon 
that of England would be the safest and best. Nor is this strange 
— it was-the one they had been educated in and been taught to 
revere, and the blessings and privileges of which they had re- 
belled to secure. But now as peace seemed close at hand, it 
was necessary to meet this question fairly and settle it forever. 
Congress was not to be trusted. To that conclusion almost the 
entire army had come. What then was to be done .-* It was re- 
solved without the calling of conventions or farther preliminaries 
to declare Washington dictator with the design of ultimately 
making him King. A paper to this effect was carefully drawn up 
and Colonel Nicola, a venerable officer, to whom Washington was 
warmly attached, was selected to present it. 

One morning Washington was sitting in the old building survey- 
ing with an anxious eye the perils that now threatened the country, 



8 

when Nicola rode up and requested an interview. He told Wash- 
ington that he had been intrusted with an important paper by the 
officers of the arr.\y. That it had been prepared with great de- 
liberation, and its contents had received the most careful and se- 
rious consideration. The paper, after speaking of the present 
condition of affairs and prospects of peace, and the necessity of 
the adoption of a strong government, took up the several forms 
of government, and discussed them, going over both the good and 
bad points in each, and finally, in conclusion, declared that a re- 
publican government was the most unstable and insecure, and a 
constitutional one like that of England the most desirable and 
perfect of all, and offering to place him, as the one most fit, at 
its head under the title of " Protector," or some other name. As 
the people might object to the name of King, it should not imme- 
diately be assumed. Ultimately it was to be adopted. The anx- 
iety and distress that deepened on Washington's face as he went 
over the topics one after another, gradually assumed a more serious 
aspect, but when he came to the offer to make him King it blazed 
with terrible light, and he exclaimed : 

" Sir, with a mixture of surprise and astonishment I have read 
with attention the sentiments you have submitted to my perusal. 
Be assured, sir, no occurrence in the course of the war has given 
me more painful sensations than your information of there being 
such ideas existing in the army as you have expressed, and 1 must 
view with abhotrence and reprehend with severity. I am much at 
loss to conceive what part of my conduct could have given en- 
couragement to an address which to me seems big with the great- 
est mischief that can befall my country. If I am not deceived in 
the knowledge of myself you could not have found a person to 
whom your schemes are more disagreeable. Let me conjure you, 
then, if you have any regard for your country, for yourself or pos- 
terity, or respect for me, to banish the.se thoughts from your 
mind." 

How like a thunderbolt this proposition seems to fall upon 
him. He cannot contain his surprise as he looks about him in 
amazement at this new danger that has opened like an earth- 
quake under his feet. Every line of this letter bears indication 
of a powerful internal struggle — a struggle to maintain that self. 
composure and moderation in language which had always dis- 



tinguished him. Mastering himself with a strong effort he re 
plies with a severe dignity and stern condemnation that must 
have overwhelmed the astonished officers. His feelings of great 
surprise and astonishment give way to "abhorrence." He 
then takes fire at the insult offered himself, the severe reflection 
it casts upon his honor, and the implied charge of ambitious 
views and possible treason to the people, and he " cannot con- 
ceive what part of his conduct could have given encouragement 
to such an address." The next moment his thoughts revert to 
his country, and " the greatest mischiefs that can befall my coun- 
try" comes back like a mournful refrain. 

Surely no event in the history of our country deserves to be 
remembered and honored more than this. No battle he ever 
fought was more fraught with the nation's destinies than this act. 
No transaction that occurred during that long seven years' strug- 
gle is more deserving of commemoration, not only for its gran- 
deur, but as an example to be held up for all time before the 
youth of this country. But this was not all. Another and a 
sterner conflict and final victory was before him. He had crush- 
ed this first movement with a single blow, but he clearly saw that 
the feeling which had prompted it was not extinguished \ nay, his 
watchful eye saw that it was on the increase, and the next step 
would be taken without him, if posbible over him. 

He saw an abyss whose depths he could not fathom, opening 
at his feet. Never before in the hour of deepest discour- 
agement when retreating from a lost field was he so agitated. He 
aroused himself, however, to avert the evil. His letters to Con- 
gress proving of no avail, and the mutterings of the army grow- 
ing daily more ominous, he proposed that a committee of officers 
of high character should be appointed and sent to Congress to see 
if some measures might not be adopted to remove the deep-seat- 
ed disaffection and disperse the rising storm. That committee 
went. It pleaded, it remonstrated, it endeavored to alarm that 
body, by pointing out the dangerous state of feeling in the army 
which, if pushed to extremity, would take the matter into its own 



10 

hands. But il was all to no purpose, and when that committee re- 
turned and reported the utter failure of their mission, the indig- 
nation increased tenfold, and Washington became still more 
alarmed. At length the long expected storm burst. One day an 
officer handed Washington a paper that had been circulated freely 
in the army. It was an appeal to it to take matters in its own 
hands, march on Congress, and obtain its demands at the point of 
the bayonet In short, if they were not granted, usurp the govern- 
ment. It appointed a day for the officers to meet in the Temple, 
as it was called (a large log building erected a couple of miles 
back of Washington's Headquarters for the use of the army dur- 
ing its long period of idleness), and there decide on the manner 
in which to proceed. 

Washington's face wore an anxious, troubled look as he read 
it and he sat and pondered long and with a heavy heart over its 
contents. The terrible exasperating facts it contained were all 
true and could not be denied. The letter was not signed, but 
was evidently written by a master hand and was perfectly adapt- 
ed to secure the end aimed at, which was to arouse the passions 
of the officers and soldiers to such a pitch that would prove too 
strong for even the powerful iniiuence of Washington to check. 
It began with a recital of their wrongs, of the insults heaped on 
them by Congress, of its cold neglect, of their own forbear- 
ance and patience under them, their self-sacrifice and patriotism, 
and recited the measures they had taken in vain to secure their 
rights, portrayed in vivid colors the contempt and scorn with 
which their repeated and earnest petitions had been treated, and 
finally breaks out, " faith has its limits as well as its temper, and 
there are points beyond which neither can be stretched without 
sinking into cowardice or plunging into credulity," and declared 
that another step in the patient course they had been pursuing 
would be ruin forever. " If this," he says, " be your treatment 
while the swords you wear are necessary to the protection of 
your country, what have you to expect from peace when your voice 
shall sink and your strength dissipate by division, when those very 



11 

swords, the instruments and companions of your glory, shall be 
taken from your sides and no remaining mark of your military 
distinction left you but your infirmities and scars. Can you con- 
sent to retire from the field and grow old in poverty, wretched- 
ness and contempt ? Can you consent to wade through the vile 
mire of dependency and owe the remnant of that life to charity 
which has hitherto been spent in honor ? If you can, go and 
carry with you the jest of tories, the scorn of whigs, and what is 
worse, the pity of the world. Go, starve and be forgotten." 
Growing bold in liis indignation he swoops down on Washington 
himself and exclaims, *' suspect the man who would advise to 
more moderation and longer forbearance, let nothing but death 
separate you from your arms." 

These impassioned words fell on the already excited and in- 
dignant hearts of the army like fire on gunpowder. Washington 
gazed with the deepest alarm and gloom at the awful catastrophe 
that seemed about to overwhelm the country. These brave men 
whom he had borne on his great heart for seven long years were 
asked to throw him overboard at last. Must it be then that the 
bloody and stormy road they had traveled together so long was 
to end in this frightful gulf in which home and country were to go 
down in one black ruin ? As he looked down into its gloomy 
depths his heart sunk and he afterward said it was the darkest 
day of his life. Not when in the gloomy winter encampment of 
Valley Forge with his half naked, starving army dying around 
him, did the prospect look so dark as now. No lost battle-field 
ever bore so terrible an aspect. But what was to be done ? He 
could forbid the meeting, but that would only increase the excite- 
ment. The army was in no temper to submit to mere dictation. 
Besides, he must win back more than obedience — he must regain 
the confidence and love of the army or all would be lost. With 
that remarkable sagacity and foresight that has made him the 
wonder of mankind he simply in an order postponed the 
meeting till Saturday and selected the number and rank of the 
officers to compose it. He acted as though he sympathized with 



1^ 

the army, and if there was to be a meeting to discuss measures for 
its welfare, it was eminently proper that he should attend it. 
This master stroke discomfited the leaders in their movement. 
They expected tp control the meeting themselves. 

In the meantime, Washington summoned to this old building 
those on whoni he knew he could rely, and Putnam and Green, 
and Knox and Wayne and Steuben and others gathered here in 
grave and solemn council. The plan for Washington to attend 
the meeting was approved, and the room in which he penned his 
immortal address to the army remains just as it was when he 
wrote it. 

So on the appointed day Washington mounted his horse and 
accompanied by his staff, rode over to the Temple. On the way 
his face wore an anxious, troubled look. He knew that the crisis of 
the revolution had come, and his heart was torn by conflicting 
emotions. Would he be able to crush this perilous movement and 
allay the rising storm, or would he be overridden and trodden un- 
der foot by the excited passions of the army ? With these thoughts 
oppressing his heart he approached the building. The crowd of 
caparisoned horses in the open space around it and held by order^ 
lies or hitched to the trees, showed that the officers were already 
assembled. On the slope across a morass in front lay scatter- 
ed the shanties of the soldiers. His eye rested for a moment on 
them, and he then dismounted and giving his horse to an orderly 
entered the building. Every eye turned as that majestic form, 
with its firm and measured tread, moved toward the raised plat- 
form at the farther end of the room. Every footfall echoed clear 
and distinct on the uncarpeted floor as he slowly passed through 
the silent throng of officers. Ascending it he turned and gazed 
a moment on the excited upturned faces, and after saying a few 
words about the writer of this anonymous appeal, he took out 
the address he had prepared with so much care. But in the 
absorption of his feelings in the decisive step he was about to 
take, he had forgotten his spectacles. Taking them from his 
pocket he said in a grave, subdued tone : " These eyes, my 



13 

friends, have grown dim and these locks white in the service, yet 
I never doubted the justice of my country." They were simple 
words, but the suppressed emotion with which they were uttered, 
and the painful sadness of his face, smote every heart and sent 
a thrill of the deepest sympathy through the room, and 
many an eye grew moist and lip quivered. 

He began that immoital address by referring to the anonymous 
writer of the call for this meeting and of the perilous advice it con- 
tained, not to sheathe their swords till they obtain satisfaction 
from the government. Dwelling on the proposition to turn their 
arms on Congress itself, he burst forth " My God, what can this 
writer have in view in recommending such measures ! Can he 
be a friend to the army ? Can he be a friend to the country ? No, 
he is plotting the ruin of both." He then spoke of the army, and 
his voice trembled with emotion as he dwelt on their sufferings, 
devotion and bravery, and of his deep affection for them. He told 
them how intimately his own fame was bound up in their glory till 
eyes that had never blanched in the wildest storm of battle over 
flowed with tears. He closed the touching, noble address in the 
following language. 

" Let me conjure you in the name of our common country, 
as you value your own sacred honor, as you respect the rights of 
humanity and the national character of America to express the ut- 
most horror and detestation of the man who wishes under any spe- 
cious pretence to overturn the libenies of our country, who wick- 
edly attempts to open the floodgates of civil discord and drench 
our Pising Empire in blood. By thus determining and thus acting 
you will pursue the plain and direct road to the attainment of 
your wishes — you will defeat the insidious designs of our enemies 
who are compelled to resort from open force to secret artifice, and 
you will give one more distinguished proof of unexampled patriot- 
ism and patient virtue, rising superior to the most complicated 
sufferings, and you will by the dignity of your conduct afford occa- 
sion for posterity to say when speaking of the glorious example you 
have exhibited to mankind : Had this day been wanting the 
world had never seen the last stage of perfection to which human 
virtue is capable of attaining." 

With a low bow he descended the platform and walked out of 
the building. The moment he disappeared through the entrance 
Knox sprang to his feet and offered a resolution of thanks to and 



14 

of confidence in Washington, whicii was seconded by Putnam, at 
the same time declaring that they returned his affection with all 
the strength of which the human heart is capable. It was carried 
with a shout of acclamation. Not a voice was raised in rem.on- 
strance. The meeting to take into consideration the momentous 
question should the army usurp the government, had ended in a 
resolution of confidence in Washington. The crisis had passed, 
the danger was over and Washington remained more strongly en- 
trenched in the hearts of his soldiers than ever. It was no figure 
of speech when Washington said the success of the measures pro- 
posed by the anonymous appeal would " drench this rising Em- 
pire in blood." Civil war would have inevitably followed, the 
colonies been rent asunder and England easily have recovered 
her lost possessions and American liberty gone down at least for 
that century. 

Washington rode back to these old Headquarters with a 
heavier load lifted from his heart than he had ever felt be- 
fore, and with serene satisfaction received the congratulations of 
his major generals. There had never been so perilous a battle 
fought during the long struggle as this one fought by W^ishing- 
ton single-handed and alone and without ihe clash of arms, and 
no greater victory won, and we believe therefore there is no event 
or period m our revolutionary history more worthy of commemo- 
ration than this. 

But this is not all that makes a great centennial here api:vopri- 
ate and worthy to be held. Here peace was announced to the 
army and a day of jubilee appointed by Washington which ought 
to be kept in remembrance by the nation forever. Thirteen can- 
non from old Fort Putnam, at West Point, belched forth their joy, 
and cannon from these old Headquarters answered. A feu de joie 
was fired by the army drawn up in line, and people streamed along 
the highway and fields with shouts and firing of guns. At night, 
fires blazed on the distant mountain-tops and their sides echoed 
with the sound of fire-arms flashing in the darkness, while shouts 
rent the air. There was a grand gathering of troops and men, 



15 

prayer and thanksgiving were offered and liymns of rejoicing 
sung, and the loud chorus rose strong and great against the sky. 
And all the coutiuent shall sing, 
Down with this earthly king! 
No king but God! 
Let this day be remembered. There is another reason wliy 
this year should be the last great centennial. Here the old con- 
tinental army was disbanded. Drawn up in line the proclama- 
tion of Congress and the farewell order of Washington was 
read and they broke ranks for the last time, the band playing the 
mournful tune of " Roslin Castle," the strains of which they had 
been accustomed to carry their dead comrades to the grave, and 
scenes of sorrow followed that should make these grounds sac- 
red to every patriotic heart. 

Thatcher, a surgeon in the army who was present at the final 
disbandment, says : 

" Painful was the parting ; no description can be adequate 
to the tragic exhibition. Both officers and soldiers long un- 
accustomed to the affairs of private life were turned loose 
upon the world. Never can the day be forgotten when friends 
and companions for seven years in joy and sorrow were torn 
asunder without the hope of ever meeting again, and with the 
prospect of a miserable subsistence in the future." 

Major North, another witness of the principal scene, says : 

" The inmates of the same tent for seven long years grasped 
each other's hands in silent agony. To go they knew not whith- 
er ; all recollection of the art to thrive by civil service lost, or to 
the youthful never known. Their hard-earned military knowl- 
edge worse than useless, and to be cast out into the world by 
them long since forgotten. To go in silence and alone, and poor 
and helpless. It was too hard. Oh, on that sad day how many 
hearts were wrung. 1 saw it all, nor will the scene be ever blot- 
ted from my view." 

No, and may it never be blotted from that of the country. Let 
it all be brought back again, and these grounds in the centen- 
nial year be once more peopled in imagination with these 
brave and suftering men — without pay, without decent clothing, lay- 
ing down their arms, relyingsolely for justice on the sacred promise 
of Washington. This spot, consecrated by such great events, 
made holy by the lofty patriotism here exhibited and speaking to 



16 

our sympathies by the tears and suffering they have witnessed, 
should not only be held in affectionate remembrance, but a monu- 
ment should crown it, towering over the Hudson from the gorge 
of the Highlands, and on it be inscribed the events of the memor- 
able year of 1783. 

These Headquarters are now owned by the State, and stand 
just as they did when Washington occupied them, empty save of 
revolutionary relics, and surrounded by cannon gathered from 
almost every battle-field of the republic. 



